


Become Something Better

by shini_amaryllis



Series: Legends of the Narnians [1]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Family, Friendship, Jadis really wants Tyrina dead, Learning to Fight, Lucy is a surprisingly good shot, Tyrina sleeping for 100 years, War, conflict through the ages
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shini_amaryllis/pseuds/shini_amaryllis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrina couldn't quite refuse Aslan when he asked her to assist Oreius as his two generals, but she still felt very unconnected from the world. Sleeping for a century left her out of the time she should have grown in, but she found a distraction in the arrival of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. Perhaps she wasn't the only one unconnected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slumber of a Century

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is the greatly revised version of my first fic, Altered Destiny, and I think it might be the last fic I attempt to revise (everything else from 2010 was complete and utter shit). I'm throwing away most of what the original was and am only keeping the skeleton (for lack of a better word). The main character is still Tyrina, who is still the daughter of an elf and a magician, but she will not have a sister, nor will she originally come from the same world as the Pevensies. It will be a slow-build relationship and I won't shove it down your throats so suddenly like I did last time.  
> Pevensies' ages:  
> Peter: 16  
> Susan: 15  
> Edmund: 13  
> Lucy: 10 (preferring the relative movie ages over the book ages, sorry!)  
> This series is designed to be a trilogy, at least, that's the plan.

Sleeping was like dying, only you had to wake up at some point, and it was waking up that was the hard part. Sleeping was far easier, only that one would be constantly plagued with their memories, of all the good and the bad and the painful.

Tyrina could only see flashes – _sounds, faces, smells_ – but that was more than enough. She remembered the sound of her father's laugh, the smell of the earth on a warm summer day, the shape of her mother's smile and of the blade that took it away.

Tyrina didn't know how much time had passed when she finally opened her eyes, but what she did know was that she was covered in a layer of dust that told her it had to have been more than a year.

She coughed loudly in the silence, her breath leaving her mouth as visible mist that was only evident in the cold, and it was very cold. And then she sat up, her body groaning in protest.

Tyrina was still wearing the red tunic under her brown jerkin that her father had gifted her after she had completed shield magick, though they were so much more worn then when she'd last worn them. The only familiar thing about them was the muddy stain on her elbow that had long since dried.

Where was she? Her memories were all go jumbled…Tyrina raised a hand to her face, expelling a loud sigh.

" _I don't understand why we're hiding!" Her eyes were fiery as her father wrenched her beloved wand from her hand to wrap it firmly in a cloth before hiding it under a few spare stones in the floor of the cave. "Father! She killed Mother! You can't expect—"_

" _No, Rina, you will do nothing," her father said, turning on her, his hazel eyes reflecting hers in the fear and pain and anger, "you cannot face Jadis on your own."_

" _Neither can you!" Tyrina retorted. "Father! Father! I am not a child!"_

" _Tyrina," he said her full name and a scowl marred her lips, "you are fifteen summers. You are still a child in many ways, and I am trying to protect you! Perhaps when you awaken, it will be in a better world."_

" _Awaken?" Tyrina repeated the word oddly. "What do you mea—"_

_The world spun around her and she stumbled, trying to keep herself upright. Her father was now two men, each looking at her in regret as they moved closer and farther apart before merging back into one with difficulty._

" _What've you done t'me?" Tyrina asked thickly, grasping at the wall to keep herself from falling down, trying to push her father away from her as he approached._

" _I am sorry," he said, his eyes forlorn, "but this is the only way to protect you, my darling daughter, even if it means you have to sleep for more than a thousand years."_

" _N-no!" Tyrina clung to him now, her eyes wide and dilated from whatever spell or drug he had given her and Tyrina was willing to bet it was a spell. "Don't-father!"_

_But it was too late, her eyesight was clouding as she fell back into darkness and the last thing she saw was her father's eyes soft with regret._

Tyrina looked around, taking in her father's mountain hideaway. It would have seemed that he had only just left it, if not for the amount of dust that caked all that lay within.

She could see an assortment of herbs in opaque jars that he had used sometimes to make protective circles or spells to banish dark creatures. She could see spell-books lying around, uncared for and placed haphazardly as though the owner had been moving around in a hurry.

Tyrina raised a hand to the chain that was hanging from around her neck, wrapping her fingers tightly around the crystal that hung from it, the necklace that had once adorned her mother's slender neck. It had been a gift from her father and the gem was usually used for scrying, which was what he had been attempting to do when he met her.

How long had it been since she'd last seen them? Was her father even still alive? Her mother may have been blessed with long life, but that didn't stop her life from being cut short by a knife to her heart.

She threw the thick blanket off of her, the cold feeling curling around her like a cocoon as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet connecting with the rocky floor.

It was cold like snow and ice, like winter was ever-present, but Tyrina couldn't imagine why.

Narnia's spring and summer were much longer than its winter, but Tyrina had always loved the autumn the most, that was the best time for magic.

She rolled her shoulders as she stood, moving weakly towards the hidden door, her muscles screaming in protest as she uttered the spell  _"fosgail"_  which caused the stone to part to reveal the world beyond and Tyrina could only stare.

All she could see through the harsh and frigid wind was snow and ice in every direction.

_Exactly how long had she been asleep?_

* * *

Her father's name had been carved into the stone with a careful hand and it did nothing to stem the flow of her tears which stung her cheeks as they fell.

She did not place any flowers on the grave, for none now grew. Her hands clutched the heavy wand her father had carved specially for her. There weren't very many that could use magick, and not all had used wands, as she and Jadis did. Wands were not necessary to perform magick, especially a wand like the wand she possessed, which was reminiscent of a sword carved from bronze with sharp amber, a contrast to Jadis' silver and crystal.

Tyrina's sobs were silent but they still ripped at her throat and her heart as she wiping the tears from her frozen cheeks.

"Do not mourn, dear one, your father is in a better place."

She whipped around, her wand still in her hands as she found herself face to face with the one who could have only been the Great Lion, Aslan, and he was indeed as great as the legends had said. Far larger than any lion Tyrina had seen theretofore and with a mane that rippled in the mane. He was blinding like the sun with all of its warmth.

The wand dropped from her hands as she dropped to her knees, speaking his name reverently.  _"Aslan!"_

"Rise, my child," he said in a deep and reassuring voice that seemed to flow over her in a calming manner and Tyrina stood. "Tyrina, daughter of Àillidh and Thomion…I have been awaiting you."

"How…How long was it?" Tyrina asked as she rose, the snow staining dark and wet circles into her trousers, but she could barely feel the cold.

"You have slumbered for over a century," Aslan told her, "much has changed around you."

Tyrina's face fell. A century? She hadn't expected it to be that long. Her heart fluttered frantically in her chest and she braced her hands against her knees. "How could this…why would he…?" Then she remembered whose presence she was in. "To sleep for one hundred years is not a fate I would wish upon anyone," she said finally.

"Indeed, young one," Aslan said gently.

Tyrina turned her attention back to her father's grave, pressing her palms together and murmuring a soft prayer for him before speaking. "Was…was his passing peaceful?" Her voice was choked and her eyes were blurry with tears, but she worked hard to get her words out intelligibly.

"It was," Aslan promised, speaking in the same gentle manner as before. "He passed in his sleep, during his vigilant protection of your body. The fauns and the centaurs prepared the grave for him out of respect for what your father did against the White Witch."

"It wasn't enough, though, was it?" Tyrina asked brokenly, muffling her sobs into her hands for a short time before recovering herself slightly and speaking with a much more steady voice than before. "Jadis has taken so much from me. My mother, my father…what else is left for her to take?"

The question was rhetoric, so even Aslan could not offer an answer.

Tyrina straightened up, moving away from the marked grave, her footsteps leaving holes in the perfect snow that was continuously falling on the mountain. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, fighting another bout of tears that threatened to overflow but did not (still, it was a very near thing), as she weaved through the snow to the cave that she had resided in for more than a century. She had loved her father and her mother, though very different the two were, and she knew her father would have done anything in his power to keep her safe, but that didn't stop her from being angry about what he had done.

"You should not judge your father too harshly, Tyrina," Aslan spoke behind her, telling her the Lion had followed her from the grave.

"He trapped me in an ageless sleep," Tyrina replied with a bit of bite, her irritation concerning the incident bubbling just under the surface of her skin.

"For the sake of your protection," Aslan reminded her. "What father could have loved you more?"

And Tyrina deflated slightly, leaning against the mountainside and looking upward. The snow had stopped falling for the moment but the air was still stale like moisture had long since left it. The bronze wand felt heavy in her hands.

"You should not fear it," He said, seemingly following her train of thought. "You and the White Witch hold a similar power, it is as capable of great good as it is of great evil."

"What if…" Tyrina's voice broke before she could stop it and she had to paused a moment to right herself. "What if it doesn't help, Aslan? What if it's not strong enough? Compared to her skills, I am a novice."

"Nonsense, child," Aslan admonished her, "the White Witch fears you for you are the last of the magicians and the elves that she eradicated from this world. You are the only one who could possibly compete with her skill in magic. The pair of you are two sides to the same coin."

"You speak of a revolution," Tyrina guessed, her tone not changing in the slightest.

"Indeed, I do," Aslan said, bowing his great head to her in such a way of reverence that Tyrina's cheeks enflamed and she quickly averted her eyes. "But what is a great warrior without a capable general to guide him?"

She stared at him, not quite comprehending his meaning. "Surely, you jest, Aslan," she said, stunned, "I'm…" She looked down at herself, "I'm fifteen summers, not including the hundred year rest, you cannot expect  _me_  to be responsible for men!"

"And that is how I know you are," Aslan promised. "You will not be alone, Tyrina. Two generals bring far better counsel than one."

"I haven't said yes," Tyrina said in an almost sulky manner.

"But you will," the Great Lion said with surety, "prepare yourself, Tyrina, for the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will be here, one day very soon, and they will need your guidance."

The wind blew around her and Tyrina raised a hand to protect her eyes and when she opened them, He had gone.

* * *

Sword-training began soon after the Lion had gone, and though Tyrina was familiar with its many stances, she had been out of practice for well over a century and was in very much need of a teacher to get her back up to speed, and that was how she met the centaur Oreius, who was the second general that Aslan had chosen.

Every day she was crossing his two blades with two of her own and studying up on battle strategy as best as she could, and by the time six months had passed, she was a far better swordsman than when she started. But then they had to move onto other weapons and Tyrina fell behind once more. Her mastery of them was slow, but it was not the only thing that plagued her mind.

After training all there was to do was wait for the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve to appear, but Tyrina had her doubts. They were practically a legend and none had appeared in Narnia since its very creation.

Tyrina had taken up a nasty habit of perching high up in the trees that were illuminated by the Lamppost that was said to have existed within Narnia since it had been created. It was only fitting that this would be where Tyrina caught her first glimpse of mortal flesh.

And it happened when Tyrina had nearly fallen asleep only to force herself to jerk awake at the sight of movement. But what she saw her jaw unhinging and her lips ajar.

It was a human, a human girl.

She was small and young, much younger than Tyrina in her one hundred and fifteen summers (relatively speaking when one considered that there hadn't been summers for a century now). The girl wore strange clothes that were far too thin to withstand Narnia's winter on their own. Her cheeks were fair and chubby with youth, framed by short brown locks and blue eyes that peered out at the world with curiosity and excitement.

The girl gazed upwards with a wondrous smile on her face and Tyrina had to duck behind a branch in order to not be seen. And then she took a few steps forward, catching the snowflakes in her hands and Tyrina found herself completely fascinated by the roundness of her ears, as Tyrina's own were pointed from the blood of her mother.

Humans were strange creatures indeed.

The sound of movement had Tyrina's attention focused around rather than on the girl who had taken to hiding behind the Lamppost, which, quite frankly, hardly hid her from view.

Two screams echoed in the air, but Tyrina knew instantly that it was more from fear than of actually being in danger, though it did not stop her from grasping the hilt of one of her swords tightly.

The half-elf-half-magician couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at the one who had frightened her. It was the faun, Tumnus who was by far the least threatening of the Narnian creatures; how on earth was he that startling?

Both parties peeked cautiously around their respective hiding spots (Tumnus choosing a tree), but it was the girl that made the first move, doing the gracious thing and assisting the faun in picking up the packages he had dropped in his alarm, and it was only then that Tumnus removed himself from behind the tree with his umbrella in hand, muttering intelligibly as he collected his things.

"Were you hiding me?" the girl asked curiously, eyeing his hooved feet as if they were the strangest thing, but Tyrina couldn't imagine why; she'd seen more of hooves than of feet these days.

Tumnus took the package she offered him, stuttering a bit in his reply. "Um, n-n-no, I-I didn't –um– want to scare you," he said, slightly flustered.

She released a small light-hearted laugh that was so innocent and pure that Tyrina had to smile from where she was hidden behind a mass of snow-covered branched.

"If you don't mind me asking…what are you?" she asked rather bluntly as if there was no other way around it, and Tyrina suspected there wasn't.

Tumnus gave her an odd look and a nervous chuckle. "Why, I'm a faun," he told her. "And you must be some beardless dwarf?"

"I'm not a dwarf," the girl refuted, "I'm a  _girl_!" She stooped down to lift the last brown-packaged box from the snow. "And actually I'm tallest in my class."

So she was human! Tyrina had almost been completely certain, but her words certainly affirmed that belief. Elation bloomed inside her, expanding until Tyrina was sure she could have been floating with excitement. Wait until she told Oreius!

"But you're saying, you're a Daughter of Eve?" Tumnus was saying.

"Well," the girl's forehead wrinkled in confusion, "my mum's name is Helen…"

Tyrina hid her chuckles well at her response.

"Yes," Tumnus said, waving those words aside, "but you are, in fact…human."

"Yes," she said as well, surprised by this line of questioning, "of course."

Tumnus glanced around a little nervously, nearly catching sight of Tyrina's hair from where she was concealed by the foliage. "What are you doing here?" he asked, somewhere between breathless and concerned.

"Well," she said breathing in deeply before speaking fast, "I was hiding in the wardrobe in the spare room, and—"

"Spare Oom?" Tumnus asked in amusement. "Is that in Narnia?"

"Narnia?" she repeated the word as though it was foreign, but Tyrina suspected that to her it was. "What's that?"

This only served to amuse him further and he smiled. "My dear girl," he cried, "you're in it! Everything from the Lamppost—" he indicated the Lamppost with his umbrella before pointing it off towards the east "—all the way to castle Cair Paravel on the Eastern Sea, every stick and stone you see, every icicle, is Narnia."

The girl looked off into the direction he had indicted before murmuring quietly that Tyrina nearly didn't hear it from where she was positioned. "It's an awfully big wardrobe."

Tumnus repeated her words slightly under his breath before finally remembering his manners and becoming quite flushed in shame. "I-I'm sorry, please allow me to introduce myself, my name is Tumnus."

She beamed brightly at him. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tumnus! I'm Lucy Pevensie." She extended her hand to the faun and even Tyrina eyed it strangely. Was this a human custom? She was not familiar with it. "Oh, you shake it!"

"Why?" Tumnus asked flummoxed, and Tyrina echoed him in that regard. Why in Aslan's name would you shake hands with someone? What purpose did it serve?

"I-I don't know," Lucy said in stunned realization, as if she had never considered why people had done it where she was from. "People do it when they meet each other."

So Tumnus indulged her, grasping her fingers and giving them a slight shake and Lucy grinned as she swung their arms back and forth, making them both laugh and Tyrina smile. "Well, Lucy Pevensie," he said, "from the shining city of War Drobe in the far land of Spare Oom, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?" Once his hand was released he brought his umbrella up and over his head, giving her a smile.

"Thank you very much," Lucy said, her smile faltering, "but I probably should be getting back…"

"Come on! It's just around the corner!" Tumnus invited. "It's not every day I get to make a new friend! And there's a... roaring fire! And toast and cakes! And maybe... we'll even break into the sardines."

Lucy contemplated him for a moment, glancing back the way she came before making up her mind. "Well, I suppose I could come for just a little while…if you have sardines."

"By the bucket load," Tumnus promised as he led her in the direction of his home and Tyrina waited approximately one minute leaping lightly from branch to branch until she could drop to the snowy ground, and then she was rushing through the snow, carefully slipping through the trees that she knew had not sided with Jadis but Aslan, moving as fast as her legs could take her.

She kicked up snow until she reached Oreius' home, which she burst loudly into.

"You're late," the centaur said, without looking up from sharpening his sword.

"You are not going to believe what I just saw," Tyrina gasped out, her face flushed both from excitement and the run and her hazel eyes bright.

"It must have been quite something," Oreius said, his pale eyes roving over her, taking account of the condition of his fellow general. "Or I doubt you would have run the whole way here."

Tyrina gave the centaur a scowl that had him smirking. "What is it?"

The grin returned as she leaned forward. "I saw a  _human_ ," she whispered but he heard her clearly and this time he paused his sharpening stone against his dagger to look up at her, surprise clear on his face.

"Are you certain?" he asked after a long stint of silence.

"Quite," Tyrina said, "she couldn't have been anything else and she admitted to being human."

"It was a Daughter of Eve? What was she like?"

"Well, she was rather young," Tyrina said, plopping herself down in a free chair (because, honestly, a centaur had no need for a chair). "Maybe nine or ten summers, I couldn't be certain…brown hair and blue eyes…she said she came from some place called War Drobe and Spare Oom."

"I have never heard of such a place," Oreius said, befuddled.

"Neither have I!"

"But this is good news," Oreius continued. "The very best."

"Do you think Aslan knows?" Tyrina asked in a hushed tone.

"I am certain He does," said Oreius, and for the first time in a very long time, the two felt the stirrings of hope within themselves. Hope for the end of this endless winter.


	2. Meetings of Strangers

The last thing Lucy remembered was Mr. Tumnus playing his strangely carved flute and the figures in the fire that danced…and then she found herself waking up in an armchair, a female voice echoing above her and fingers gently probing at her temples.

"Milady, can you hear me?"

Lucy's eyesight cleared as she blinked fuzzily at the speaker. She had to be as old as her sister Susan, but this stranger was as curious as Mr. Tumnus. Her eyes were a bright hazel and her hair a brown so dark that it was nearly black, but that was not what made her strange, it was the fine points to her ears that peeked through her locks.

"Who're you?" Lucy asked.

The girl smiled. "My name is Tyrina…are you well?"

"Oh! I must have dozed off," Lucy cried upon seeing how the sun had fallen in favor of darkness outside the window. "I should probably get back."

"It's too late for that," Tumnus said and Tyrina's eyes shifted to where he lay, curled in a corner, her eyes narrowing at how fearful he appeared to be. "I've been such a  _terrible_  faun."

Tyrina's eyes narrowed into slits. What had Tumnus done now?

Lucy stood, moving towards him on feet much smaller than Tyrina's. "Oh, no," she said gently, "You're the nicest faun I've ever met."

"Then I'm afraid you've had a very poor sampling," Tumnus said wetly, ducking his head submissively.

Lucy pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket, kneeling down next to the faun as Tyrina approached cautiously to hand the flimsy hanky to him. "You can't have done anything that bad," Lucy said, smiling at him in a way that showed how she wished to assuage his fears.

Tumnus pressed the handkerchief against his eyes, mopping at the wetness that lay there.

"What have you done, Tumnus?" Tyrina asked, her voice carrying a subtle lilt of danger.

"It's not something I've done," the faun said, his eyes flickering between both females. "It's something that I'm doing."

"What are you doing?" Lucy asked.

" _I'm kidnapping you_ ," Tumnus said in a harsh whisper and Lucy leaned away from him. "It was the White Witch, she's the one that makes it always winter, always cold! She gave orders that if we ever were to find a human wandering around in the woods, w-w-we were supposed to turn it over to her!"

"How could you do that?" Tyrina demanded, fire in her face and voice. "Tumnus! You know what she's like! You know what she'd do to any human that enters Narnia! How could you be so willing to hand a human child over to her?"

Lucy gazed upon him with a look of broken trust that only a child could give to someone they had barely met. "But," she said weakly, "I thought you were my friend."

Tyrina knelt down so she was eye-level with the faun. "You want to make amends?" she asked. "You're going to help me return Lucy Pevensie to her world, Do you understand me?"

"You know my name?" Lucy said in surprise.

"I know many things," Tyrina replied in an omniscient manner, rather than admitting that she had been hiding up in the tree when the girl first arrived near the Lamppost. "Tumnus? Are you going to help me or not?"

Tumnus blew his nose loudly on the handkerchief and wiped his eyes for good measure.

"Yes," he said, "I'll help."

He wrapped his red scarf around his neck, a resolute expression on his face as he and Tyrina took each of Lucy's hands, pulling her through the door and into the snow, kicking it up as they rushed towards their destination. Lucy's small hand was warm in Tyrina's and its presence kept her from falling behind her two much longer-legged companions.

"She may already know you're here; the woods are full of her spies," Tumnus told Lucy under his breath as they weaved through the trees, having regained a bit of his wits. "Even some of the trees are on her side."

"This way!" Tyrina pulled them through a thicket of branches, dodging east to avoid one of the trees she knew to be fraternizing with Jadis.

They came out beside the Lamppost, Lucy's footprints from earlier long gone by the recent snowfall.

"Do you think you can find your way from here?" he asked her.

"I-I think so," Lucy said as both released her hands. "Thank you, very much."

Tyrina spared her a slight smile and Tumnus' eyes glittered wetly.

"What's going to happen to you? The both of you?" Lucy asked, her concern softening the blue of her eyes. "Will you be alright?"

"We'll be fine," Tyrina promised for the both of them. "And I'll keep as much attention as I can spare on Tumnus, do not worry, Milady."

Lucy felt the need to correct her –she wasn't a lady in the slightest sense– but they were short on time.

"I'm sorry," Tumnus murmured. "I'm so sorry." He wiped at his tears again with the handkerchief before trying to return it to its owner, but Lucy curled his hands back around it.

"Keep it," she said, forgiving him in an instant, as children often did, giving him a smile as she did so, "you need it more than I do."

Tumnus released a weak chuckle at her words and Tyrina restrained from doing the same.

"No matter what happens," he said, leaning forward to look her completely in the face, "I am glad to have met you, Lucy Pevensie, you've made me feel more than I've felt in a hundred years. Now, go,  _go!"_

Lucy glanced to Tyrina and the older girl nodded encouragingly before she turned away, disappearing into a particularly thick set of pine branches.

* * *

Tyrina drew back the bowstring, carefully aiming the arrow low from the tree she was perched in, in case the dwarf came to close to her hiding place, though the chances of him seeing her were actually quite slim, but it was best to remain vigilant at all times, which was one of Oreius' mottos.

Besides, she would have probably missed him completely as her skills with the bow which were quite a shame; Oreius had stopped wincing every time she released an arrow, so that was certainly an improvement.

She paused, waiting on bated breath to see what he would do, but then he moved away and she breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing her bow and returning the arrow to her quiver and securing the bow over her shoulders as she straightened up on the branch she was standing on, gripping the branch above and hoisting herself up onto it and walking across it with ease.

Tree-walking was something Tyrina had always been good it, something she had inherited from her mother, according to her father, and she knew which trees to avoid.

The branches from corresponding trees crisscrossed, allowing Tyrina to leap from one tree to the next before making her way slowly back to the ground.

The sky was dark overhead and the wind was cold and the snow icy. Tyrina would have never thought that she would miss the warmth of the sun and the grass under her feet so much. It seemed like not so long ago when she had experienced both, but her century-long slumber only made it seem so short, and she knew there were others who were far less lucky.

Tyrina wandered through the snow until she came to the Frozen Lake whose true name had long since faded from Tyrina's memory; as it couldn't have been called the Frozen Lake all the time, especially in the summer when it wasn't frozen in the slightest.

Crossing the Frozen Lake was no difficult task, since it had been frozen over for more than a century now, which meant great stability as Tyrina crossed it. But this did not stop Tyrina from crossing the ice slowly and carefully, as the half-elf-half-magician did not have a good relationship with ice, falling on her face during more than one occasion.

It would not do to tempt fate once more, and thus it took longer than usual to cross the lake and enter into the Shuddering Wood. The forest was as quiet as the Western Wood had been, at least, at first, but then Tyrina heard the faint whistling of the wind passing through the leaves, sounding like the song of a dryad that Tyrina had once heard.

"She who has slept one hundred years," a voice murmured behind her and Tyrina turned on her heel, one hand gripping the hilt of the blade at her side, but there was no need.

It was a dryad, snow resting atop her long brown hair the color of bark, watching her with unblinking pale green eyes, like the buds of flowers yet to bloom, her long green chiton swaying in the wind.

"You have seen Aslan," she said eagerly, causing the whistling between the trees –much like a communication between them, Tyrina noticed– to increase at the name of the Great Lion.

"I have," Tyrina agreed slowly and the dryad gave her a smile that warmed her face despite the cold that surrounded them all.

"Is He as great as it is said?" she asked.

"Even greater," Tyrina said and the dryad vanished into a breeze of flower petals, flying off into the sky, no doubt to spread the word to other dryads of Aslan's return and what that meant for the future of Narnia.

Tyrina waited a moment longer before continuing on in her journey through the thick woods.

Aslan had summoned her a second time and instructed her with finding a suitable place for their battle encampments to be placed. Tyrina thought she might not have been the best person for this duty, considering that several land formations had changed since the time of her youth, but the Great Lion had merely given her what was undoubtedly the lion equivalent to a mysterious smile, but all she had been able to make out was how His eyes twinkled beyond the golden-brown fur.

After much consulting of maps, Tyrina had come to the decision that the best location for their battle encampments was at the far end of the Fords of Beruna which were quite large and could be a useful location for the battle itself, should the need ever arise, and she was quite certain it would.

She passed the last of the trees in the Shuddering Wood coming across the frozen Great River with its equally frozen waterfall, and not for the second time today was she grateful of the extent of the White Witch's abilities, but that was for that reason alone.

The White Witch's abilities was the reason for why Tyrina's parents had passed into Aslan's Country long before she had awakened, and for that, the witch had earned her undying and unwavering hatred.

The snow crunched under her boots, her toes long since frozen within the sturdy material (Tyrina supposed she could use a warming spell, but she might actually catch fire to her boots by accident, so it was forgone). Time passed slowly as she walked, but Tyrina didn't pay much attention until she came to a stop at a place protected on both sides by stony cliffs, very much naturally fortified and so far back on the fords that it nearly connected to the Rush River.

Tyrina eyed the landscape before nodding to herself and pulling out her wand, lifting it into the air and slamming it down into the ground with a resounding crack, sending a ripple through the air and protecting it from any of the Witch's scouts seeking to penetrate further.

Now all that remained was the gathering of troops.

* * *

Lucy left Mr. Tumnus' the next day with a jaunty skip in her step and a smile on her face. This time she was bit more adequately with a thick pink dressing gown and black wellies on her feet (though the dressing gown was better explained by the fact when she had left her world in the middle of the night, even if it was daytime in Narnia), and it seemed that the Witch hadn't caught on to what Mr. Tumnus had attempted to do. Seeing Mr. Tumnus had been a relief –she had been quite worried for the faun when she had gone– but Lucy had been hoping she would catch sight of the kind-faced Tyrina from before.

She had been very helpful in assisting her in returning her to the wardrobe she had entered from, but Lucy had yet to see her.

And then she saw something, a head of brown hair, forcing her duck behind a tree to avoid being seen. Lucy peered curiously from beyond it to see Tyrina kneeling in the snow, examining treads in the snow.

A smile touched her lips. "It's alright," she said lightly, "I know you're there. You can come out."

Lucy's cheeks flushed, but she did as was asked and moved out from the cover of the tree to join her.

Tyrina smiled. "Hello, did you come back for another visit?"

Lucy nodded, her short hair bobbing with the movement. "I went to see Mr. Tumnus," she said clearly, "I was hoping to see you too."

Tyrina's smile widened and her eyebrows rose in surprise as she stood from the position she was kneeling in. "Were you?"

Lucy grinned. "Yes."

"Well, I can't be certain as to why," Tyrina said in a relatively thoughtful voice that was effortlessly faked. "We hardly knew each other for more than a few moments."

"But you helped me," Lucy insisted, "and you're very nice."

"That would depend on the day," Tyrina replied, glancing upwards towards the sky, gauging if there would be snowfall that day, and Lucy giggled.

"Are you an elf?" she asked curiously, her eyes focusing on Tyrina's ears.

"You are quite talkative," Tyrina said with a bit of amusement. "But I'm only half, I'm afraid."

"Half and elf?" Lucy asked in confusion.

"My mother, Àillidh, was an elf," Tyrina explained, "but my father, Thomion, was a magician, who may have shared the same long life expectancy, but he was not blessed with the same immortality as my mother."

"So where are they?" Lucy asked in confusion. Tyrina appeared to be close to Peter and Susan's ages, but even in Finchley their mother had to know where everyone was, including her two eldest.

Tyrina's face fell slightly and Lucy knew instantly that she had overstepped a boundary.

"The White Witch killed my mother right in front of me," she said quietly, "and my father died in his sleep while he watched over me."

"Oh, no!" Lucy said horrified. "I'm so sorry!"

Hazel eyes fastened on hers briefly. "It's alright," she said, "it was a long time ago."

"How long?"

"Roughly a century," Tyrina said, playing with a frayed end of her tunic, "give or take a few months."

"You've been alive for a hundred years?" Lucy gasped, her jaw unhinging in her shock.

"I'm only one hundred and fifteen summers, and not a day over," Tyrina told her firmly and Lucy burst into giggles once more.

"Are there any more elves?" Lucy asked as she took her hand and the half-elf-half-magician led through the wooded area.

"Not anymore," Tyrina said, "or, if there are, they are keeping their heads down, but I suspect that I am the last of that noble race." She said this with a forlorn sigh, so Lucy switched to the other side of her family.

"What about magicians?"

"Oh, they are most certainly still around," Tyrina assured her, "I ran into a young man just last week that tried to rob me of my satchel –containing nothing more than a large number of maps, mind you– by enchanting it to fly away from me as though possessed…of course once he realized I had magic as well, he had disappeared as soon as returned my things to my side…I hope he's still enjoying that rather remarkable green hair color, it did rather much match his envious look."

"You're horrible!" Lucy said, releasing a bit of laughter at the image of a boy with green hair hightailing away from the witch he had unsuccessfully attempted to rob.

"I thought the punishment was quite just," Tyrina mused.

"Can you show me some magic?" Lucy asked eagerly.

Tyrina contemplated her for a moment before lifting the chain from around her neck that held the scrying crystal, the gem swinging back and forth like a pendulum in the free air.

" _Sciath_ ," she said clearly and the crystal glowed brightly, earning an awed look from the small human girl watching.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Shield," Tyrina said as she bent down a little so that she could place it around Lucy's neck. "It will protect you should you find yourself in danger."

"Oh, I couldn't," Lucy said quickly, attempting to take it off. "It's yours!"

"Please take your own advice, Milady," Tyrina said, stalling her movements with her hand. "You need it more than I do."

Lucy smiled, remembering clearly the words she had said to Mr. Tumnus the other day. "Only if you stop calling me 'milady,'" she told her, "my name  _is_  Lucy Pevensie."

Tyrina's lips twisted in wry amusement and her eyes twinkled. "Alright, Lucy," she said. "Now why don't you run along ahead. I'm certain I heard the sounds of someone blundering about…perhaps another human?"

Lucy's face lit up at the prospect. Had Peter or Susan or Edmund followed her within? How exciting! She ran forward through the trees until she caught sight of a head of dark hair.

"Edmund? Oh, Edmund!" she cried, causing her thirteen-year-old brother to turn towards her. He had his blue dressing gown thrown over his own bed clothes much like Lucy. "You got in too!" She hugged him even though he clearly didn't appreciate it. "Isn't it  _wonderful?"_

Edmund pushed her away from him and Lucy tried not to let her hurt show on his face.

"Where've you been?" he asked as he wiped something from his face, though Lucy couldn't be certain of what.

"I've been with Mr. Tumnus, and I saw Tyrina again!" Lucy said beaming, "Mr. Tumnus was fine and the White Witch hasn't found out anything about him meeting and helping me."

Edmund gave her an odd look, speaking slowly. "The White Witch?"

Lucy leaned forward with a conspirator-like whisper. "She calls herself the Queen of Narnia, but she really isn't."

"Her name, as it would happen, is Jadis," a voice uttered from behind them and Edmund twisted around to look upon the speaker.

She was garbed in the strangest clothes Edmund had ever seen, as though she had walked right out of a medieval fair, complete with a sword hanging on either side of her waist, and something made of bronze bound to the side of her thigh, looking a bit uncomfortable.

However, the color of her hair and eyes weren't nearly so unusual, the brown locks wound into a tight braid that fell over one shoulder and the hazel eyes surveying him. The face those traits belonged to was vaguely angular and elfin-like.

"This is Tyrina," Lucy said, grinning broadly, as she waved a careless hand towards the one-hundred-and-fifteen-summers-old Narnian. "Tyrina, this is my brother Edmund."

Tyrina inclined her head slightly in respect. "Hello," she said, "you must be one of the four."

Her words reminded him a bit of the Queen.

" _How many are you?"_

" _Four."_

"Are you quite well, Edmund Pevensie?" Tyrina asked lightly, noticing how his attention had drifted.

"She's right," Lucy added, scrutinizing her brother with an expression that made the roundness of her cheeks more prominent. "You look awful."

Edmund was instantly defensive. "Well, what do you expect?" he demanded. "It's  _freezing!_  How do we get out of here?"

Tyrina hid her chuckles behind her hand before Lucy hugged her tightly.

"I'll be back soon," Lucy promised. "Will we see each other?"

"Perhaps," said Tyrina and Lucy rolled her eyes, releasing her new friend and dragging her brother in the direction of the wardrobe out of which they tumbled moments later, back in Professor Kirke's manor.

Lucy was bubbling with excitement when she turned on the light to the room that held her two brothers, one of which had been attempting to sleep. She jumped on Peter's bed first.

"Peter, Peter, wake up!  _Peter, wake up_! It's there, it's  _really_   _there_!" she cried and her elder brother groaned into wakefulness, attempting to shush her.

His eyes were winced shut and he was still half-asleep, as was evident in his voice, as he rolled over to see what was the reason for such a racket.

Edmund sat down on his bed and Susan came in from across the hall, blinking several times to clear the sleep from her eyes.

"Lucy," Peter murmured, "what're you talking about?"

"Narnia!" Lucy said, tugging at his arm. "It's all in the wardrobe, like I told you!"

"Oh, Lucy, you've been dreaming," Susan said, disagreeing with her and going for the most logical explanation, as usual.

"But I haven't!" Lucy insisted. "I saw Mr. Tumnus again! And Tyrina –she's so lovely! Look at what she gave me!– And this time, Edmund went too!"

All eyes turned onto Edmund at Lucy's words and suddenly Edmund found himself out of sorts. Why did Lucy have to go and drag him into this? He wondered a bit irritated towards her.

"You –you saw the faun?" Peter asked him a bit dubiously.

Edmund frowned slightly as he shook his head. He may have seen the Queen and that strange elfin girl with her sharp ears, but he had seen no faun.

"Well," Lucy drew the word out, "he didn't actually go there with me –but he did see Tyrina, Peter, because she said goodbye to me before we left–" Lucy's forehead creased in confusion. "He…What were you doing Edmund?"

All the eyes were on Edmund and there was only one thing he could do to save face, and that was lie.

"I-I was just playing along," he said and hurt flashed in Lucy's face as she glanced over to Peter before back to Edmund. "I'm sorry, Peter, I shouldn't have encouraged her, but you know what little children are like these days, they just don't know when to stop pretending." He sat down on his bed, looking very pleased with his lie and watching as the tears steadily gathered in his younger sister's eyes until they poured over and she ran from the room sobbing.


	3. The Gathering of Troops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think what I'm going to do is flash between what the Pevensies are doing and what Tyrina is doing. I'm not sure if its ever specifically stated about how much time passes before Lucy returns with her siblings, but let's assume more than a week, for arguments sake.  
> This fic is intended to span until the Pevensies return to their world, which means I'll be detailing what I refer to as the 'in-between years,' which was the original plan when I first wrote this, only I never got around to it, but I have high hopes for this fic.  
> Like I said, this is intended to be one part of a trilogy, but there might be a very short fourth segment that I just dreamed up the other night.

The snow was melting. Slowly melting, but still melting and Tyrina couldn't have been more pleased. She had only endured a few months of the frigid winter, but it was more than enough to make her miss spring and summer and most definitely autumn with all its bright colors and warm and cool winds depending on the day.

More people were arriving each day. They already had more than twenty tents set up and that number was growing.

Tyrina scowled at Oreius, refusing to take the bow and arrow that were offered to her. "I prefer close-combat," she replied in a clipped tone.

"I am quite aware of that fact," Oreius informed her, "but it is still a skill you need to learn. Archery can be useful when close-combat is not an option."

Tyrina's scowl deepened at his words, but she could not deny them; Oreius, after all, was quite well-known for his harsh truths. Then she snatched the bow from his hands, notching the arrow and aiming it at the target that rested at a distance of more than the length of two mature oak trees. It was not hard to see, but Tyrina's archery skills were progressing rather slowly and she would much rather have been honing her swordsmanship, but Oreius was insistent.

And if Oreius wanted something done, it would be done…albeit with mutinous grumbles.

Tyrina took an intake of breath, releasing it slowly, and with her breath went her arrow, sailing through the air to lodge in the second ring from the center.

"Better than last time," Oreius had to concede grudgingly and Tyrina's shoulders sagged at his words.

"Why must you be like that?" she complained. "Just say  _'it was a good shot, Tyrina,'_  is that too much to ask?"

"Yes," he told her swiftly, his lips twitching slightly into a smile. "I will say  _'it was a good shot, Tyrina'_  when it is a good shot, and not a moment sooner."

"Sometimes I wonder if Aslan sought to punish me by naming me general beside you," Tyrina told him.

"Why is there a wonder?" Oreius queried, now grinning at her and Tyrina's scowl darkened. "Now, fire another arrow. This time aim more, think less."

"How shall that help me?" Tyrina demanded in aggravation. "I need to think in order to fire off an arrow!"

"Yes," Oreius agreed, "however, thinking too much will distract you and your aim will waver. Now, again, Tyrina."

And so Tyrina grudgingly took up the bow again, notching the arrow and letting it fly through the air.

Day in and day out, Oreius had her working on her aim…at least, before midday. After midday they both had to contend to the duties of being generals of Aslan's army, and this included making certain that their soldiers could hold on their own with weapons of their own.

Tyrina could ignore the apprehensive whispers concerning the wand she kept on her at all times, bound tightly to her leg and so similar to the Witch's that Tyrina knew they had a reason to fear.

It wasn't just the wand, truth be told, but herself. Elves hadn't been seen in Narnia since before the Age of Winter, and the rumors of how Tyrina had been born before Jadis' reign caused a bit of unease. Ageless sleep, as magic, caused them a bit of fear, but Tyrina herself was not one to fear.

It was true that she hated the White Witch immensely, for the murder of her mother and leading to the death of her father was an apt reason to host so much hate, but Tyrina was kind and patient with her fellow Narnians and soon showed that magic itself owed no allegiance to one side; it mattered only the will of the user.

Tyrina stood atop the hill that overlooked the encampments which still were covered with enough snow that her toes still froze within her sturdy boots.

"It is truly a sight to behold, is it not?"

Tyrina turned to bow her head slightly towards Aslan as he approached.

"It is something," she had to agree, "so many have come together to do battle with Jadis' army…it is quite awing."

She was certain the Great Lion was smiling, but it was so hard to tell with that thick mane of his. "Yes," he said, "all of Narnia, united with a common goal."

"The presence of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve would unite them further," Tyrina offered.

"You are correct," the Lion said, but he did not elaborate further.

"Aslan," Tyrina said with a look of contemplation on her face, "I have met the two youngest, Lucy and Edmund…"

"Something that worries you, my child?" Aslan surmised.

"It may be nothing," Tyrina said, "but the boy, Edmund, concerns me…he seemed familiar with the White Witch's true name when I mentioned it…I would like to travel to the Lamppost to ensure that nothing worrisome is afoot."

Aslan nodded his great head, thinking on her words, no doubt mulling over his decision, after all, Tyrina was one of his generals, and he had every right to refuse her.

"Do check up on the faun, Tumnus," he said and Tyrina could have sworn that he nearly winked at her. "I fear the Witch may have an eye on him after the youngest's continued visits to his home."

Tyrina bowed her head lowly. "I shall see it done and return as swiftly as I am able."

And then she turned away to lope easily to where the horses –Talking Beasts, that was, the ones that didn't speak Tyrina couldn't handle– were grazing.

"Phillip! How do feel about going on a ride with me?"

A horse with a lovely brown coat lifted its head to look her dead in the eye. "Anything to stretch my legs," he said, not even bothering to make sure he didn't sound too relieved.

* * *

The previous night Lucy had only gotten a glimpse of Professor Digory Kirke (the man whom owned the house that they were staying in) when she had ran into him in tears, hugging him unintentionally, but now she had to wonder if she'd done something wrong. What other reason would he have called her into his study?

"Hello, Lucy, was it?" he asked and Lucy forced her eyes upwards.

The Professor was a kind face, one that had borne many years, the skin dappled with fine wrinkles and his pure white hair a bit on the wild side as he contemplated her with clear eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Kirke, sir," Lucy said a bit meekly, twisting her fingers uncomfortably between her hands, trying not to reach one up to her unadorned neck that had held the necklace Tyrina had given her the previous night but had vanished in the confusion.

The Professor snorted in a rather undignified manner. "There's no need to call me that," he said, "Professor will suffice…I understand you've happened upon a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe."

Lucy's eyes widened as his twinkled. "You-you believe me, Professor?"

"I believe that wardrobe is very unique," he said. "But you have found a way into Narnia…have you not?"

Lucy positively beamed, pleased that at least one person believed her, even if it wasn't her siblings.

"Ah, I almost forgot," the Professor mentioned, pulling a chain from his desk drawer and lifting it up for Lucy to see and the young girl leapt to her feet.

"My necklace!" she cried, grasping the chain that the Professor offered. "I thought I lost it!"

"A gift perhaps? From a Narnian friend?"

Lucy smiled as she looped it around her neck. "From Tyrina, it's hers actually. She spelled it to protect me."

"Did she?" the Professor asked. "Was she a magician?"

"She said her father was," Lucy said, eager to speak of her time in Narnia to someone who was not so dubious, "her mum was an elf."

"Most curious," the Professor said, "now tell me of the Narnia you saw."

And Lucy opened her mouth and told the Professor of how on her journey in she had met a Faun by the name of Mr. Tumnus and a young (or not so young, depending on how you looked at it) half-elf-half-magician named Tyrina who used magic. It was a fanciful tale and strange beyond count that most would disbelieve in an instant, but Digory Kirke knew better. He had seen the great Aslan himself, and he had seen the creation of the world she had described to him.

And the White Witch Jadis whom she already knew to fear was a very prominent concern.

"It seems you have indulged me long enough," the Professor said, passing the young girl a wink as she breathlessly finished her tale. "You may go…I believe your siblings are outside. Might I suggest taking a book? I always enjoy reading on the terrace."

Lucy smiled as she jumped up, thanking him as she removed herself from his study and finding herself under the shade of a tree not five minutes later, engrossed in the old fairytales within her book as her three older siblings played a game of cricket. Lucy had never liked the game to begin with so she kept to herself, her fingers wrapped around crystal that almost pulsed under her hand like a heartbeat.

"Peter winds up, poised to take another wicket!" Peter released the cricket ball into the air, causing it to collide with his younger brother's leg.

" _Ow!"_  Edmund complained, rubbing at the injury sorely.

Peter laughed slightly. "Whoops! Wake up, Dolly Daydream!" He caught the ball that Susan threw back.

"Why can't we play hide and seek again?" Edmund asked, looking distinctly annoyed, thinking of the request the Queen had given him, to bring his siblings to see her.

"I thought," Peter said, tossing the ball lightly between his hands, "you said that it was a kid's game."

"Besides," Susan added with a reassuring smile, "we can all use the fresh air."

"It's not like there isn't air inside," Edmund pointed out mutinously and Susan's smile fell briefly.

"Are you ready?" Peter asked, palming the ball, ready to throw it.

"Are you?" Edmund shot back as he bent forward slightly with his bat, smacking it against the ground several times before cocking it in preparation to whack the ball.

Peter took a short running leap, pitching the ball downwards towards Edmund. It bounced once before he swung at it, sending the ball falling, rather unfortunately towards the upstairs window, smashing through the glass and colliding with something beyond.

Lucy winced, looking up from her book. "Oh, that's not good," she murmured to herself as she set the book aside, joining her brothers and sister as they ran inside to see the extent of the damages.

The damages, as it would so happen, included one broken window and one –possible broken– fallen suit of armor that looked positively ancient.

"Well done, Ed," Peter said, giving the dark-haired boy a look/

"You bowled it!" Edmund retorted, his voice becoming a bit more high-pitched as he defended himself.

All words stilled as a voice echoed floors beneath them. "What on earth is going on up there?"

"The Macready!" Susan gasped.

"C'mon!" Peter tugged them out of the room and the scene of the crime, to search for a place to hide, but it seemed as though nearly every door was locked and the footsteps of the Professor's housekeeper, Mrs. Macready echoed at every turn.

Lucy's heart fluttered in excitement when the only option left to them was the room that held the wardrobe.  _Now they would know! Know that she was telling the truth!_

Edmund ran to the wardrobe, flinging open the door and gesturing in when they didn't move. "C'mon!"

"You've got to be joking," Susan said with a frown, but the footsteps echoed louder and then they had no choice.

* * *

Tyrina's back was on fire.

The last thing she remembered was Tumnus yelling as he was dragged away by Jadis' police dogs (and she meant that quite literally, as the police was composed of wolves). She had killed three before Maugrim, the captain of Jadis' Secret Police ripped his sharp claws through her back.

She wouldn't deny the scream of agony that had parted from her lips as she fell into the snow. Perhaps it was because their true target had been Tumnus that they had not come at her with full force, or else they would have cared more about leaving a survivor.

The next thing she knew, she was awakening within a beaver dam, a rather particular beaver dam. She knew Mr. and Mrs. Beaver quite well as they were stanch supporters of Aslan, and while they weren't much of fighters, they were allies nonetheless.

"Easy, dearie," a voice clucked overhead and Tyrina blinked a few times, tilting her head back slightly. "Your back must be throbbing something fierce…I was about to paste some more snow on it."

Mrs. Beaver's whiskers were twitching nervously, trying to get the half-elf to cease her movements so that she wouldn't reopen her wounds.

"Did you drag me here?" she asked, flummoxed by the change in location.

"My husband did," Mrs. Beaver admitted, "took him a bit longer than anticipated, considering your size and weight, he was late for dinner!"

Tyrina couldn't help but smile at that. Trust the Beavers to like consistency. And then the smile fell from her lips. "How bad is my back?" she asked and the female beaver froze, contemplating what she should say, the truth or what Tyrina wanted to hear (though, honestly speaking, Tyrina would much rather prefer the truth).

"Well, the bleeding had stopped by the time Beaver dragged you in," she admitted, "but the claw-marks are rather deep…I wouldn't risk moving very much –please, don't move, Tyrina!"

Tyrina had sat up, pushing herself off the makeshift bed and causing pain to rip across her back and she almost fell back down to the floor, but it would be better for her to get back to Aslan as soon as possible to report of the fate of Tumnus, and she would limp to the Fords of Beruna if she had to.

 _But, of course,_  she reminded herself,  _you might not have to limp there at all._

"Where's my wand?" she demanded, twisting her head around, not caring of the pain that the movement caused her as she searched for the bronze and amber wand that had been molded specially for her more than a century prior.

"It's over here, dearie."

Mrs. Beaver handed it over to her gingerly as if she was afraid it might go off and start a fire in her wooden home, but she needn't have worried; wands didn't much start anything without their owner's will guiding them.

Tyrina's ability to use healing spells was negligible at best, as sad as it was, as it was a specialized branch that Tyrina hadn't focused on during the numerous lessons she'd had with her father; she had been far more interested in battle magic, attacking and defending.

She knew the incantation for one healing spell, but whether or not it would work was a different matter entirely, but they would get nowhere unless she actually attempted it.

Tyrina lifted the wand and pointed it behind her towards her broken and bloodied flesh, intoning through gritted teeth:  _"Leigheas!"_

Smoke rose from the three slashes as the skin drew tightly across them, sealing the cuts, but still leaving behind dark scars that she doubted would ever heal.

"Unbelievable," Mrs. Beaver marveled as she mopped up the last of the blood before permitting the half-elf to replace her chest binding around her torso and pull the red shirt over her shoulders before pulling the brown tunic up her arms, struggling to secure the ties that secured it to her body. "Are you sure you have to leave so soon, Tyrina? Mightn't it be best to rest a bit before you go? It will be dark soon, you won't want to travel in that."

"I must be going," Tyrina said, "there is much ground to cover and there are events I must inform upon. Aslan will want to hear about what had happened to Tumnus—"

"You've seen him?" Mrs. Beaver asked eagerly. "The Great Lion? You've actually seen Aslan?"

"Yes, of course," Tyrina said, a bit startled as she fixed her belt that held the both of her swords around her waist. "I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Beaver, but I can't stay long, I must return, but you have my thanks for bringing me to your home and caring for me, I owe you a debt."

"Think nothing of it," Mrs. Beaver said, waving her off. "I'm just glad you're healed up…do take care of yourself, will you, Tyrina?"

Tyrina spared her a slight smile. She enjoyed how mothering Mrs. Beaver was, reminding her a little of how her mother had been, but that had been a very long time ago.

"I promise, Mrs. Beaver," she said, "I am quite capable of doing so, as I'm sure you're aware."

Mrs. Beaver chuckled softly as the one-hundred-and-fifteen-year-old girl opened the door and ran out onto the ice, whistling for the Talking Horse, Phillip that she had arrived with.

_Always on the move._

* * *

Of all the strange things to happen in one day, this certainly took the cake in Peter's opinion. He hadn't even considered that the forest – _Narnia_ , he reminded himself– that Lucy had been talking about for the past two days had been real! But here they were in the middle of a literal winter wonderland.

But the strange events didn't end there. Peter had given Lucy the choice of what they should do, and Lucy, positively bursting in excitement, had chosen taking them to meet her faun friend, Mr. Tumnus, but when they reached his home, they discovered that it had been trashed by –according to piece of parchment that had been nailed to the wall of Mr. Tumnus' destroyed home– the Secret Police for consorting with humans, which was to say Lucy.

And not long after that…Talking Beasts (and yes, that was with a capital 'T' and 'B')! In particular, a talking beaver.

When he had held out his hand to it, it had responded with clear English. "I ain't going to smell it, if that's what you want."

Peter recoiled swiftly, and Lucy released a few giggles, though still as surprised as her siblings that an animal had just spoken to them. "Oh…sorry," he said, a bit awkwardly, leaning back to stand up straight.

The beaver's attention switched to Lucy, speaking her name as though someone had said it recently to him. "Lucy Pevensie?" he asked and the smile fell from her face.

She took a few steps forward with a quiet and cautious "Y-Yes?"

The beaver was holding out a white handkerchief that Lucy recognized easily as the one she had given to Mr. Tumnus when he had seen her off at the end of her first visit. Lucy took it, lifting her eyes from the flimsy material to look upon the beaver.

"That's the hankie I gave to Mr. Tum—"

"Tumnus," he agreed with a small nod of agreement. "He got it to me just before they took him."

"Is he alright?" Lucy asked. "And Tyrina? She said we'd see each other again, but…"

"The general is a bit more complicated, but I'll explain," he said, "further in." He gestured for them to follow him as he scurried off through the snow and both Lucy and Peter made to follow him when Susan pulled them up short.

"What're you doing?" Susan hissed, pulling at her brother's shoulder.

"She's right," Edmund said, glancing around and in the direction that the beaver had gone off in. "How do we know we can trust him?"

"He said he knows the faun," Peter said with a small shrug of his shoulders. "And the elf."

"He's a beaver," Susan said in exasperation. "He shouldn't be saying anything!"

But despite their reservations, the four found themselves in the cozy dam of Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in a matter of minutes, thankfully before the sun had fully set.

Mr. Tumnus' position seemed rather hopeless, the way Mr. Beaver explained it.

"I don't think the police were expecting Tyrina to show up," Mr. Beaver admitted, "I reckon they were lucky she hadn't cast a spell on them, as it was, she got about three of them before the head, Maugrim, slashed her back."

Susan hid her gasp behind her hand and Lucy looked horrified.

"She's alright, isn't she?" Lucy insisted.

"By the time she woke up, she healed herself with a bit of magi and headed on her way," Mrs. Beaver told her, "she was insistent upon leaving, had things to report."

"They say Aslan is on the move," Mr. Beaver said hushed, "and Tyrina is one of the few who's trusted by Him; I don't doubt she was acting on Aslan's orders by checking up on Tumnus."

Edmund, who had been sitting on the steps in the corner as the table was much too small for all four of them plus the beavers, moved closer to the table with an expression of complete and utter confusion on his face. He had never heard of the name Aslan before.

"Who's Aslan?" he asked.

This question caused Mr. Beaver to burst into laughter, as though it was the most ludicrous question he had ever been asked. "Who's Aslan?" His shoulders shook as he chuckled. "You cheeky little blighter!"

Mrs. Beaver elbowed him slightly, taking notice of similar look between the four siblings that clearly said they didn't much know what Mr. Beaver was talking about.

"What?" he asked and then he saw the confused expressions as well. "You don't know, do you?"

"Well, we haven't exactly been here very long," Peter felt the need to point out.

"Well, he's only the king of the whole  _wood_ ," Mr. Beaver said dryly, "the top geezer, the  _real_  King of Narnia!"

Edmund's lips drew downwards in distaste, remembering what the Queen had promised him and he took a few steps towards the door, waiting for the attention to shift away from him so that he could make a quick getaway.

He had done as she had asked, after all, he had gotten his siblings to Narnia, and for a moment, all Edmund could think of was that Turkish Delight.


	4. The Gifts of Father Christmas

Peter, Susan, Lucy, and Mr. Beaver were rushing through the snow, back towards the dam, glancing feverishly back, well aware that they were being tracked. They had attempted to follow their brother, having realized of Edmund's disappearance after a certain amount of time had passed, but they arrived too late. By that time he had reached the Witch's House and they were out of luck.

And now they were out of safety.

They exploded into the dam.

"Hurry, mother!" Mr. Beaver cried. "They're after us!"

The only affect his words seemed to have on his wife was that they made her bustle faster around the dam, grabbing this and that from various cupboards. "Ooh! Right, then!"

"What's she doing?" Peter demanded, fear still present in his voice like it was in Susan and Lucy's face. Lucy grasped at the gem still dangling around her neck.

Mr. Beaver made a wave with his hand that said he clearly didn't know.

"Oh, you'll be thanking me later," Mrs. Beaver assured them. It's a long journey and Beaver gets pretty cranky when he's hungry."

"I'm cranky _now_!" Mr. Beaver nearly snapped.

Susan looked over what Mrs. Beaver had gathered. "Do you think we'll need jam?"

"Only if the Witch serves toast," Peter responded.

She gave him a look bridging on a glare before they were all quickly distracted by the sound of wolf barks just outside the dam as well as hearing how they clawed at the secured logs, attempting to dig a hole into the dam and thus to the humans and beavers within.

"Hurry!" Mr. Beaver said. "This way!"

He pulled open a door that had hidden a tunnel that wasn't very deep underground, but was enough for them to leave the dam without being seen, thus buying them a bit of time.

The remaining three Pevensies and the two beavers piled in, securing the door shut and lighting a torch as they moved through the tunnel.

"Badger and me dug this," Mr. Beaver told them as they rushed through. "Comes out right near his place."

"You told me it led to your mum's!" Mrs. Beaver said, a bit annoyed by this information (oh, he was not pulling the wool over her eyes a second time!).

Mr. Beaver offered no reply to this, and he wouldn't have, and then Lucy gave a small cry as her shoe hooked onto a root, tripping into the ground.

"Lucy!" Susan grasped at her younger sister's arm, trying to pull her upright when they heard the echoing howls of the wolves from within.

"They're in the tunnel!" Lucy whispered in almost a hiss.

"Quick, this way!" Mr. Beaver barked, waving them through a portion of the tunnel that had gradually widened from age and usage.

"Hurry!" Mrs. Beaver added, as the three followed a bit cumbersomely, Peter holding the torch aloft, Susan pushing Lucy before her, her lantern swinging in her hand.

The only problem was that they had come out to a dead end. Things were just going from bad to worse, weren't they?

Fear gripped tightly at Lucy's heart as she glanced hopelessly around for some kind of exit, but there was nothing. They were stuck and there were wolves coming for them, perhaps to even kill them; Lucy was _terrified_.

"You should have brought a _map_!" Mrs. Beaver reprimanded her husband, her paws shaking.

"There wasn't any room," Mr. Beaver retorted, "next to the jam!" And then he leapt up, scrambling to dig a hole out into the open air. Thankfully, it only took a few seconds more, but it was a few seconds closer that the wolves came closer, and by now Lucy was almost certain that she was going to have a steadfast fear of wolves.

He made a hole easily and after the beavers had disappeared through it, Susan and Peter helped Lucy up and out, and then Susan climbed up, and at long last, Peter.

Lucy had tripped and fallen into the snow by the time Peter had climbed out and helped Mr. Beaver situate a barrel over the hole they had left from to block it from allowing the wolves access to them. And it was only then that everyone realized what it was that Lucy had tripped over.

They were small woodland creatures, squirrels and chipmunks and rabbits, as far as Lucy could tell, and they had been turned completely to stone. This was undoubtedly the work of the White Witch; who else could do something so horrible?

And they weren't the only things frozen in stone in the surrounding area. Mr. Beaver moved slowly towards one of the larger statues –in size only, as he was only a little bit larger than Mr. Beaver–, one that could have only been the Badger that Mr. Beaver had mentioned earlier, whose place the tunnel had been dug to end out it.

Mr. Beaver touched the stone paw raised defensively to protect its owner's face.

"I'm so sorry, dear," his wife said gently, her paws on his back.

"He was my best mate," Mr. Beaver murmured softly, caught somewhere between grief at what had been done to his friend and anger at the Witch that had turned him to nothing more than a statue.

"What happened here?" Peter asked as he pulled Lucy up so that she was not lying on the small frozen creatures and Lucy kept a tight grip on her brother's hand.

"This is what happens to those who cross the White Witch."

The words came from behind them and they all twisted around to face friend or foe.

* * *

Night had passed into day it was just past daybreak when Tyrina finally made her way back to the camp, now with bits a green grass peeking through the snow. She and Phillip had taken the long way round the Frozen Lake simply because the Talking Horse didn't much like walking across ice.

After they'd reached the camp, the first thing Tyrina did was collapse into the hammock that worked rather well as a makeshift bed.

Unfortunately, she was only permitted a few hours of rest before she was summoned before the Great Lion once more.

"I see you ran into a little trouble in the Lantern Waste," Aslan said as she joined him before his tent, which was adequately large to accommodate his size.

"The Secret Police arrived before I," Tyrina admitted in a reluctant sort of manner, as though she was expecting a reprimand. "They were already dragging him away when I arrived, and I received a slash through my back for my efforts."

"I see," Aslan said. "I do not fault your failure, it is as I expected."

Tyrina bowed her head slightly.

"The arrival of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve will be soon now," he said, "I would like you to greet them and lead them inward."

"Of course," Tyrina said automatically. "I would be happy to."

"I believe it would be much preferred that a friendly face assist them," Aslan said.

"I would only be a friendly face to the youngest, Lucy, I am afraid," Tyrina offered, "or the boy Edmund, though he has only seen me once, rightly, and words have hardly been exchanged between us."

"And you are the closest to resembling a human," Aslan added, surveying her with eyes that seemed to stare into her soul and finding something promising within her (or, at least, that was what she hoped). "There are others who might incite fear and apprehension, but the young-faced general with a smile kissing the curves of her face will put them more at ease."

Tyrina's cheeks flushed a little at his words, bowing her head slightly, faint smile touching her lips at the mention of such a smile. "I will see to it, Aslan," she said, turning away when his resonating voice called to her.

"I have never regretted naming you one of my generals, Tyrina daughter of Àillidh and Thomion. Not all battles can be won single-handedly, not even you with the skills you currently possessed could have been expected to stop of pack of Talking Wolves on your own."

Tyrina said nothing, though she did incline her head slightly as she walked away from him and out of the camp to walk along the River of Beruna, wondering just how far away Lucy and her siblings were (tracking spells hadn't much been her fancy when her father had gone over them). The possibilities raged in her mind and she was certain that by now they must have at least passed the Eastern Wood, if nothing else.

"Looking for someone?" a voice called after her and she turned to see a man pulling up by the river with his sleigh, permitting his reindeer to drink and rest. He was an older man, his fair skin adorned with wrinkles and a pale beard a bit on the wild side, but his eyes were clear and bright.

Tyrina had heard tales of Father Christmas, but she herself had never met him, and then there had been no Christmas for one hundred years, yet here he stood.

"The Witch's powers must indeed be crumbling," she said lightly, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Well met, Father Christmas."

Father Christmas released a laugh that echoed around them. "Well met, Tyrina, child of magic and the wood…and what would a general of Aslan's Army ask as a gift?"

"I hadn't truly thought about it," Tyrina admitted, "there isn't much I want."

She couldn't remember the last time someone had asked her what she wanted (not counting when she was doing her duties and actually required certain supplies). It was probably when her mother and father were still alive, and it was probably her old tunic –she had _abhorred_ the dresses that her mother always forced her into.

"Not one thing?" he asked lightly and Tyrina contemplated his words for a brief moment, a single thought entering her mind as he withdrew a heavy tome.

Tyrina could not help but gape at it as he gave it to her. _"The Book of Incantations!"_ she gasped. "But this has been lost for _centuries_!"

"Lost?" Father Christmas chortled. "I think not! Forgotten of and hidden away, most certainly."

"But-but this is—" Tyrina seemed to be beyond words for the first time in her very long life. The Book of Incantations? Her father had long since dreamed of owning it, but Tyrina had always imagined that it was destroyed long before even her father's time, perhaps even by Jadis herself.

"I imagine it is priceless to one such as yourself," Father Christmas said, "but I have something more."

From his large bag he procured two further items, twin-bladed swords.

Tyrina could not help but release a laugh of her own. "Father Christmas," she said, "my own swords suit me just fine, and I can assure you they are made quite finely."

"I have no doubt that they are," he agreed with a smile of his own, "but these are not intended towards you."

"They aren't?" Tyrina asked a bit flummoxed, looking at the blades with confusion. _Then why was he giving them to her?_

"You will chose who they will be gifted to," said Father Christmas, "one who is deserving of their quality." He gave her a rather significant look

For a moment Tyrina said nothing, simply holding the leather scabbards that held the silver hilted swords, and then she nodded her head.

"I will," she promised, somehow managing not to lose her grip on the gifts. But, she mused as he walked back to his sleigh, grasping his reigns and riding away before she could say anything else with a cry of "Merry Christmas!," she would have to return to camp briefly; it wouldn't do to be ladened down with so many items when she greeted Lucy and her siblings.

* * *

They had all gotten a rather early start the following day, what with the desire to reach Aslan as soon as possible, but there was still a rather long way to go, and by past midday, Peter, Susan, and Lucy's feet were sore and frozen from the snow they were continuously trekking through.

It was almost exasperating how the Beavers had yet to become as exhausted as their human companions.

"Come on, humans!" Mr. Beaver called from in front of them, a rather significant distance ahead. "While we're still young!"

Susan couldn't stifle a groan; there was a blister on her heel that was beginning to irritate her something fierce and Peter sighed while Lucy's shoulders slumped.

But then she smiled as her brother bent down in front of her so that she could lock her arms around his neck, allowing him to hoist her up onto his back with an exaggerated grunt as if she weighed a great deal.

"If he tells us to hurry up one more time," Peter said, "I'm going to turn him into a big fluffy hat."

Susan smiled and Lucy giggled. "Or get Tyrina to do it for you," Lucy said amidst her giggles.

"Do you think he realizes how bossy he sounds?" Susan asked them.

"I'm sure it's dawned on him," Peter said dryly, "he's probably enjoying it while he still can."

"Hurry up, come on!" Mr. Beaver called again and Peter straightened his grip on his sister, only having to drop her to her feet a moment later at Mrs. Beaver's fearful cry of: "No! Behind you, it's her!"

The three chanced a brief glance behind them where they could see snow being gradually kicked up by something rushing towards them, though they couldn't be sure of what. But it still made them rush across the snow with fear in their hearts, trying to outrun her before she reached them.

It was gaining on them, the sound of hooves spurring them forward even further so much so that Peter was practically dragging Lucy into the woods, all of them diving into a small cave that was just large enough to hide them all.

Lucy grasped at the crystal again, her heart beating feverishly in her chest. Had she found them? Were they going to be captured? Her other hand caught Peter's as a shadow appeared above them, a bit of snow dislodging and raining down just inches from where their feet were.

And then the silence pressed on and Lucy whispered, barely audible, "Maybe she's gone?"

Peter shifted slightly beside her. "I suppose I should go and have a look."

Mr. Beaver shot him down before Susan could, for the look on her face made it clear of her disapproval of his line of thought.

"No!" the beaver hissed. "You're worth nothing to Narnia dead." He had climbed out slightly when his wife made him pause.

"Well, neither are you, Beaver," she said in a voice laced with worry.

"Thanks, sweetheart." He gripped her paws in his before he left the safety of the small cave to climb up to see if the White Witch was indeed still about, and the four others waited on bated breath for any noise at all.

And then there was the sound of crunching snow and Lucy's hand in Peter's was beginning to ache at how tight his grip was, Susan kept biting her lip, her eyes darting to and fro for any sight of the male beaver.

Mr. Beaver's head poked suddenly over the edge –startling a small scream from Lucy–his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Come out, come out!" he cried. "It's alright! It isn't _Her_! I hope you've all been good 'cause there's someone here to see you!"

Susan and Peter shared a look of confusion over Lucy's head, but then they stood with Mrs. Beaver to join Mr. Beaver.

Susan and Peter looked appropriately shocked at the figure standing before them, but Lucy was beaming broadly. The sleigh had not belonged to the Witch, it was not white but a common brown color, much like the reindeer fastened to the reins. The man was as far from a witch as one could possibly be, wearing a maroon robe worn by age and with a wild white beard.

"Merry Christmas, sir!" Lucy said, bounding forward, the bright smile still present on her face.

"It certainly is, Lucy," Father Christmas responded with a kindly smile of his own, "since you have arrived."

Lucy's cheeks became much rosier.

Susan spluttered in disbelief but it was Peter that spoke. "We thought you were the Witch."

He nodded in understanding. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry about that," he said, "but, in my defense, I have been driving one of these—" He gestured towards his sleigh and the reindeer pawing at the ground. "—longer than the Witch."

"But, I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan said, finally regaining her speech, still quite disbelieving that she was standing in front of the Father Christmas, the one who gave gifts to all the good children (but she had long since stopped believing that fairy tale.

"No," Father Christmas agreed, nodding his head solemnly, "not for a long time. But the hope you have brought, Your Majesties, is finally starting to weaken the Witch's power. Still, I dare say you could do with these."

And with that said, he turned away to reach down and into his sleigh, lifting a large and bulging brown leather sack.

Lucy darted forward, eager still, but he first spoke to the Beavers, who moved forward with a bit of curiosity and the same nervous energy that Lucy currently possessed.

"There is a new and better sewing machine for you, Mrs. Beaver. I will drop it in your house as I pass."

" _Ooh!"_ Mrs. Beaver said delightedly. "But it's locked up, however will you get in?" The door had been locked, but she was sure there was a gaping hole in the side where the wolves had gotten in through.

"Locks and bolts make no difference to me," he assured her as she thanked him for his gift. "And as for you, Mr. Beaver, when you get home, you will find your dam finished and mended and all the leaks stopped and a new sluice-gate fitted."

If Mr. Beaver was any more pleased, Lucy was certain he would be floating in the air.

And then Father Christmas turned to Lucy, holding a battle that easily fit in the palm of her hand when he gave it to her and a small dagger.

"Lucy, Eve's Daughter," he said, "in this bottle there is a cordial made from the juice of the fire-flowers that grow in the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a single drop of this will restore them from even the brink of death. But use it sparingly, for once a thing is gone, there is no getting it back. And the dagger is to defend yourself in great need, though I pray you never use it."

Lucy held the Gifts lightly in her hands, a frown of contemplation on her lips.

"Thank you, sir," she said, "but I think I could be brave enough."

Father Christmas smiled broadly at her. "I'm sure you could," he agreed, "but battles are ugly affairs."

And then he called Susan forward with a: "Susan, Eve's Daughter."

"These are for you," Father Christmas said, holding out a quiver full of red-fletched arrows and a bow to match and a horn of ivory into which the likeness of a lion had been carved. "Trust in this bow, and it will not easily miss."

"What happened to battles are ugly affairs?" Susan couldn't help but retort, taking the quiver, bow, and horn.

But he only smiled as he chortled a laugh. "I see you don't have a problem making yourself heard," he said, tapping a finger against the horn. "When you put this horn to your lips and blow it, then, wherever you are, some kind of help will come to you."

And then for the last.

"Peter, Adam's Son," he said, and Peter moved forward as well. "These are your presents, and they are tools not toys. The time to use them is perhaps near at hand. Bear them well and wisely."

What he had withdrawn from the sack for their brother was perhaps the most magnificent yet, a silver shield with a red lion and a sword with a golden hilt, shaped like a lion as well. It was indeed a kingly gift.

"Thank you, sir," he said quietly.

Father Christmas inclined his head slightly before clearing his throat.

"Now," he said, glancing up towards the sky briefly (perhaps to gauge the time based on the position of the sun, but Peter couldn't be certain), "I must be off! Winter is almost over, and things do tend to pile up when you've been gone one hundred years!" He grunted slightly as he lifted the bag back into his sleigh before climbing in after.

"Long live Aslan!" he told them. "And Merry Christmas!"

He whipped his reins slightly and the reindeer rushed forward amidst the farewell from the humans and the two beavers.

"He said winter was almost over," Peter said after a short moment before suddenly looking at his sisters, you know what that means."

Lucy and Susan weren't following his train of thought, that much was clear from the look on their faces.

"No more ice."

Dawning realization appeared on them now. They needed to pass over the River of Beruna to reach Aslan's camp, and it would be infinitely more difficult to accomplish if the ice was no longer as stable as it had been when they crossed the Frozen Lake.

_Oh, dear._


	5. Greetings of Aslan

Crossing a melting frozen river was not Susan's idea of an ideal plan, but it did seem like the only course of action open to them, what with the wolves being so close to them. Fear was raging in her heart but she could push that aside, but only so much.

"If Mum knew what we were doing—" she said, her eyes focused on the icy slabs beneath her feet, her hands flung out slightly to balance herself, the weight of the bow and arrows on her back all that she could feel at the moment.

"Mum's not here!" Peter snapped from in front of her and Susan scowled at him for that, but Lucy's cry of "Oh, no!" caught their attention, stalling their impending argument to glance up to see ice shattering under the paws of the pack of wolves that had been tailing them since the previous night running along the top of the frozen waterfall that was far too unstable and slick for them to walk along.

And then it was almost a race to the edge, slipping and sliding only to find it blocked by the wolves before them and behind them.

Susan whipped her head back to count the wolves at their back –it was three. They were surrounded.

Mr. Beaver raised his paw in what he might have considered a threatening manner but it certainly didn't hold up against wolves with such obviously sharp canines. One of the wolves leapt forward, its teeth at the beaver's throat, keeping him from resisting.

Mrs. Beaver cried out in fear for her husband and Peter pulled out the sword that had been buckled at his waist, holding it awkwardly in his hand, pointing it towards the wolf that approached them.

"Put that down, boy," the wolf said in a gruff and low voice. "Someone could get hurt."

"Don't worry about me!" Mr. Beaver struggled against his captor. "Run him through!"

"Leave now while you can," the wolf told them, "and your brother leaves with you."

It was that thought alone that brought Susan's wits back to her as she tugged on her elder brother's arm.

"Stop, Peter! Maybe we should listen to him!"

"If Jadis had held any intention to return your brother to your side, she would not have sent her dogs to chase you across the country."

The new voice startled Peter and Susan, who had never heard it before, but Lucy was familiar with the voice's owner, though not in the form she had created.

The ice had crept up from the melting slabs beneath their feet to form a wolf made completely from it with teeth bared viciously towards the White Witch's wolf.

"Begone Wolf-filth," Tyrina uttered from the wolf's mouth, "your lies will not save you from the fate that lies in wait for you."

The wolf chuckled darkly. "Perhaps one hundred summers of sleep has left you rusty, Elf-spawn."

"The same could be said for you," she responded, "or have you not seen how the waterfall is on the brink of releasing the flow of a tide?"

This had, it seemed, slipped all of their minds as the eyes of the beavers, humans, and wolves shifted upwards to the cracking waterfall and Tyrina wasn't wrong.

" _Peter!"_  Lucy screamed and Peter had to make a split second decision. Instead of aiming the sword at the wolf and likely missing, he stabbed the blade into the ice, his sister's holding tight to him as the water sprayed out from the ice it had been encased in for so long, the ice shattering the slabs that connected the bit they were standing on to the edge of the waterfall, creating a wave of water that dissipated the Tyrina-wolf and sent the wolves scrambling to stay on their ice only to ultimately fall in, and left the beavers diving in.

Lucy and Susan screamed as the icy water doused them in seconds before it shot them downstream, far away from the wolves, but for Lucy, holding onto her brother was easier said than done.

Her grip was slipping, even with his arm around her, and she couldn't manage to say so because she kept choking on water, and then she finally came free, slipping out of her water-logged fur coat, struggling to keep her head above water as she was swept away.

She almost didn't see the figure with brown hair rushing along the side of the river to dive down, fighting to reach her side. Lucy felt the arm wrap around her waist and a swift call of what could have only been a spell,  _"Brainse!"_

A vine was thrust out from a nearby tree to wrap around Tyrina's free arm, jolting them out of the water and colliding against the frost-crusted land.

Lucy rolled onto her side, coughing up the water she had accidentally swallowed as Tyrina stood, binding her weapons back to her waist and legs and assisting Lucy in standing up.

It was only then that Lucy noticed that she was perfectly dry as though as had never jumped into the river in the first place while Lucy was shivering and looking like a drowned dog.

She opened her mouth to ask her if she could use that spell on her too when Susan fearful cry of her name distracted her.

Tyrina's lips twitched upwards in amusement. "I believe your family is calling, Lucy Pevensie."

"Are you coming with me?" Lucy asked curiously. Tyrina  _did_  have a habit of disappearing on her, however, she had yet to make a move to leave.

"I have been tasked with escorting you and your siblings to Aslan's camp," Tyrina said wryly, pushing her forward with a slight nudge of her hand against the small of her back, "so I believe, yes, I will be joining you."

Lucy couldn't help but beam brightly at her before skipping off in the direction it sounded like Susan and Peter were located at.

* * *

"I am Tyrina, it is an honor to meet you, Your Highnesses."

Of all the things Peter had been expecting when Lucy introduced her Narnian friend, the half-magician-half-elf was not entirely what he had been expecting.

Truth be told, her features were remarkably ordinary in comparison to all the creatures they had seen up until now. Her hazel eyes and dark brown hair wouldn't have been amiss in their world, but her sharply pointed ears –peeking just slightly from her loose wet locks– certainly would have drawn eyes. As would her strange fashion sense. Wearing greaves and a leather tunic and two swords and a weapon he didn't recognize.

She bent her head slightly so that Lucy could replace her necklace around her neck, examining it closely as she thanked her.

"Hang on, you were that wolf on the ice," Susan said, staring at the girl with wide eyes.

Tyrina inclined her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips at her words. "Yes," she said, "I was, or, to be specific, my voice was. It is a rather advanced spell and it takes a great deal of effort to maintain."

"So…you're a witch like the White Witch?" Peter asked curiously and Tyrina gave him a look so cold that he took a few steps away.

"Our differences are more evident than our similarities," she remarked coolly. "But, if His Highness would be so kind as to not compare me to the White Witch, it would be  _greatly_ appreciated."

It was clear that there was some bad blood between the pair and Peter opted to keep his mouth shut on the matter, just as Tyrina remained silent concerning the lack of one of their siblings.

"Please follow me," she said, "He is waiting for you."

Lucy followed after her eagerly and her elder brother and sister had no other choice but to comply. Once she got started, there was hardly a way to stop her.

The trek was mostly silent except for Lucy jabbering on to her friend, updating her of the adventures they had already had, making them seem more carefree in retrospect than they had been when they were in the midst of them.

"I, er, I don't want to be rude," Susan said after a moment of silence, and Tyrina's eyes flickered towards her, "but we've come across a few strange people and things over the past few days…so what exactly are you? Lucy said you were half-elf and half-magician…"

"She is correct," Tyrina said smoothly, a smile forming on her lips and Susan and Peter found they preferred it more to the scowl that had been present when she had been compared to the White Witch. "My mother was a pure-blooded elf and my father a scholar of magic…relations between the two races are rare but not unheard of."

"Are there any more?" Peter piped up.

"I am certain there are magicians, but I doubt you will find many…a good portion of them are well known for their cowardly nature…however there are no more elves."

"Why not?" Susan asked as Tyrina leaped lightly over a stream that had begun to flow as the snow and ice slowly faded away. She took Lucy's hands, helping her cross before offering the same to Susan, who took her hand gratefully.

"The White Witch had them slaughtered until I was the only one left with elven blood," Tyrina said without much feeling, "but she could never find me; my father had hidden me too well to be discovered."

"And you really slept?" Susan said, stunned by the information Lucy had told them before that was undoubtedly true. "For one hundred years?"

"Yes…it does seem that way, does it not?" Tyrina sighed forlornly. "I too awoke in a world that was not my own, Your Majesty, so perhaps we are similar in that aspect."

"Can this Aslan really help our brother?" Peter asked quietly and the Beavers shared a glance, contemplating whether or not to open their mouths to speak, but Tyrina did their work for them.

"The Great Lion is strong and wise and great beyond all imagining," Tyrina said solemnly, "I am certain he is the only one who could…but the others will not be pleased."

"Why's that?" Lucy asked curiously, swinging the half-elf's arm, squeezing her fingers slightly as she did so.

"Betrayal is a steep crime," Tyrina said gently, "to think of a Son of Adam betraying his siblings to Jadis will not sit well with them."

"But it wasn't his fault!" Susan cried.

"It matters not whose fault it is, Your Majesty," Tyrina said, turning her head to survey the girl with unblinking hazel eyes that Susan couldn't help but find unnerving, "only what has been done."

Whatever she had been trying to convey, it only served to make the future Kings and Queens of Narnia despondent and Tyrina heaved a small sigh.

"But there is still hope," she promised, giving them all a gentle smile that made her look younger and suited her face just as well as the frown it had replaced. "Aslan will do everything in His power to help you."

"Why?" Peter asked in startled surprise. "He doesn't even know us…why would he help us so much?"

"Because Aslan is great and Good," Tyrina said, her smile still present on her lips and it made her eyes almost seem gold in the sunlight. "Any can make a mistake, children commonly do so. Aslan was young once, he understands what it is to be tempted."

The frost thinned on the ground and beneath sprouted a single white flower on the grass, though none noticed its presence other than the Tree-Women who smiled brightly to each other in their trees.

* * *

The trek the rest of the way to Aslan's camp was for the most part silent as the siblings observed the wonderous place they had found themselves in.

The Dancing Lawn had been shed of almost all of the snow and ice by the time they left it and the sunlight and warm breeze was a relief to the children who had climbed out of the icy lake sopping wet and cold to the bone.

It had been a long time indeed since Tyrina had felt the sun's warmth in such a way. It banished any of the cold that remained and it filled her heart with hope at the thought of the end of Jadis' reign.

But she still kept a steady hand on the sword at her waist, the other clutching at the hilt of her bronze-carved wand.

A loud horn echoed above them and the Pevensie children jumped, and Tyrina couldn't help but allow herself a small smile at the reaction.

"Fret not, Your Majesties," she assured them, the smile still in place on her mouth. "It is only Rima announcing our arrival."

She lifted a finger to point to the cliff-face where a centaur could be seen situated, a horn in hand, barely visible to the naked eye. Rima wasn't much of a fighter, contrary to the popular opinion that all centaurs were born warriors, but he did wish to help their cause. He'd helped with anything from keeping the mood jocular to helping fix armor to cooking for the troops.

Tyrina spoke of him always with a note of fondness in her voice that couldn't be missed.

Rima gave a low bow to the Pevensies that was obvious even with the distance between them.

"Will everyone do that?" Peter asked a bit uneasily.

"The uncouth ones will not bother, I suspect," Tyrina mused in a thoughtful manner, "but the others will be more respectful, given who you are."

Susan appeared exasperated by her words, but Lucy was remarkably unfazed (perhaps she truly didn't care either way; Tyrina couldn't be certain).

"Follow me," Tyrina added, striding in front of them, towards the camp's entrance and the three allowed their eyes to drift over the brightly colored tents within. There was a large number of crimson and gold tents, more so than any other color.

Peter wondered if those were Narnia's colors. He was going to assume yes by the tents and the tunics the creatures within the camp wore.

As they moved past, they gained more and more eyes on them and Lucy reached out to grab Peter's hand, which he squeezed reassuringly.

But there was nothing dangerous about the stares turned upon them, just curiosity and awe at the sight of them. Peter gathered they had never seen a human before, as their expressions were akin to the ones Lucy wore when they'd gone to the London Zoo when they were younger and she'd seen creatures she'd never seen before.

Peter's eyes were drawn to the fawns and the centaurs at the blacksmith station, attempting to hammer out their swords into straight lines and make their armor not as bulky or heavy. It was fascinating to watch, even as they noticed the attention on them.

"Why are they all staring at us?" Susan whispered towards her siblings, forcing a smile on her face and speaking through it.

Lucy released a short round of giggles as she looked up at her elder sister. "Maybe they think you look funny," she offered in what she thought was a helpful manner (but make no mistake, Susan clearly saw that mischievous twinkle in her eye).

Peter couldn't resist a smile at the comment, particularly when Susan gave a frown.

Beside them, the Beavers were murmuring quietly to one another, mostly having to do with Mrs. Beaver attempting to clean herself before they reached Aslan's tent, despite the fact that there wasn't really anything in her fur to speak of and Mr. Beaver assured her of that.

Tyrina came to a stop in front of them, moving instead to the side where a centaur was standing, watching them. He was easily one of the more muscular centaurs they had seen yet, and he watched them without a change in expression, apart when Tyrina approached.

It was clear he was fond of her and she of him as she gave him a smile as they grasped arms in greeting (something akin to shaking hands, Peter surmised)and he leaned down so she could whisper something in her ear, but then both their faces smoothed into masks as she took up residence at his side and Peter thought it would be best to perhaps speak.

The sword made a small noise as it was removed from its holster and Peter lifted it, taking note of its weightiness as he held it aloft.

"We have come to see Aslan," he declared.

The centaur merely looked towards the tent at the center and Tyrina gave him an encouraging nod of sorts as Peter swallowed thickly.

Behind them, each and every Narnian knelt in respect, whilst the centaur in front of them bowed his torso and Tyrina knelt on one knee.

A great paw parted the tent flaps, and out stepped the great Aslan into the light.

Of all the things Peter could have expected Aslan to be, he had to admit that a lion hadn't been on the list. He was large, much larger than any lion Peter had seen yet, with a mane thick and full and eyes that showed both age and wisdom.

The Pevensies knelt quickly in the grass, bowing their heads in respect as if merely being in his presence required them to do so.

"Welcome Peter," He said, his deep and resonating, "son of Adam. Welcome Susan and Lucy, daughters of Eve. And welcome to you Beavers, you have my thanks, but where is the fourth?"

Peter sheathed his blade as they came to their problem in question. "That's why we're here, sir. We need your help."

Tyrina was sure she wasn't the only one who had heard the desperation in his voice.

"We had a little trouble," Susan added, stumbling a little over her words, "along the way."

"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch," Peter told the Great Lion.

"Captured?" Aslan inquired, the fur above his eyes furrowing in a manner similarly to a human that was confused. "How could this happen?"

An awkwardness settled over the siblings that was beyond Tyrina's understanding (she had, after all, not been around until after Edmund's disappearance, as you might recall).

"He…betrayed them, Your Majesty," Mr. Beaver said, unease in her voice.

"Then he has betrayed us all!" Oreius declared at Tyrina's side and she frowned slightly.

"Peace, Oreius," He commanded, his gaze sweeping over those gathered before him. "I'm certain there is an explanation."

It was like he was asking Peter to speak without words and only using his eyes to convey his thoughts.

"It was my fault, really," Peter said with regret. "I was too hard on him."

"We all were," Susan was quick to interject, not one for leaving her brother out to dry.

"Sir," Lucy said quietly, "he's our brother."

Aslan's large eyes softened as he looked upon her. "I know, dear one, but that only makes the betrayal all the worse. This may be harder than you think."

* * *

Tyrina woke Peter bright and early the next morning for the same training she had promised him the previous night.

"Your armor will be ready in two days," Tyrina told him as they walked towards any empty part of the makeshift training field.

Peter wondered how she could so effortlessly with two swords and a wand that looked as heavy as the swords.

"We will not have you practice with the armor until you have reached a certain level of mastery with the sword…may I?"

She had extended a hand towards the blade and Peter almost didn't want to hand it over, but she was here to teach him to use the sword. He handed it over.

Tyrina took it, weighing it carefully in her hand. It was a little heavy for her, and she suspected a bit for him, but she had little doubt that he would grow into it. She gave it a few test swings, twisting it around her and twisting it in her hand for good measure.

"Why are there two generals?" Peter asked her suddenly, and she paused in her examination of the blade.

"Why would there not be?" she inquired instead, arching an eyebrow at his question.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I just figured there would have been one."

The expression she wore at his words could have been easily closely associated with befuddled or flummoxed.

"Why would there be only one?" Tyrina's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "I train the newer recruits and send them off to Oreius…he is the one who makes the more important decisions and trains they at a greater level."

"Is that what you're doing with me?" Peter asked, grabbing his sword when she held it out to him once more.

"No," Tyrina mused, her eyes glittering in the sunlight. "I am in charge of your training, everything involving fighting with your feet on the ground. Oreius is in charge of teaching you to fight horseback and teach you of strategies."

Peter nodded his head in understanding.

Truth be told, he didn't really want to fight in a war, he just wanted to get his brother back, especially since he was part of the reason undoubtedly as to why Edmund had gone off on his own in the first place.

But Aslan said he was going to help get Edmund back, and Peter believed him. There was something about the way the Lion spoke that made you want to believe in him, to trust him. He was unlike anyone Peter had ever met before.

"One of the centaurs will show your sisters how to shoot an arrow and throw a dagger…respectively." Tyrina's lips twisted upwards as she smirked, finding the idea of little Lucy with her dagger humorous, but anyone was entitled to their own weapon and she had to wonder when she was older what weapon she would take up as a dagger could only get you so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its been awhile since an update, and its going to be awhile longer until another one, mostly because I'm not really obsessed with this fic right now, but it was about half done so I felt the need to finish it up.
> 
> Edmund will probably show up in the next chapter, but I'm not entirely certain…I haven't really planned that far ahead.


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